Artificial Snowflakes
by Bbbleblish
Summary: This is the story of a Capitol girl who was destined to be just a minor character in Katniss Everdeen's epic tale. She will never impact history like Katniss did, but will go on her own journey to understand the corruption of her privileged society and the futile nature of hatred. **I don't change canon pairings or events.
1. Prologue: The Beginning of Ignorance

**Artificial Snowflakes**

**Prologue Pt 1: The Beginning of Ignorance **

* * *

You may look badly upon me; you may think that I'm an evil person and in truth, I am.

I'm one of the villains of this story. I'm one of the oppressors. I've spent my life comfortably viewing the suffering of others and have never done a damn thing about it. All my life, I've been an ignorant person from a vacuous society.

When I was a child, I didn't know there were other settlements outside of the Capitol. It wasn't until I watched The Hunger Games for the first time one night. My parents sat me down with them in front our tv and within twenty minutes of the broadcast, I was sobbing. I clung to my mother as a boy was decapitated in front of my eyes. His body writhed around in the mud even after the head had been removed.

It was utterly shocking for a child to witness something like that. I didn't understand at all what was happening or why. Never before had I been exposed to violence in my perfect little world. Yet, my parents were untroubled by the violent images and more alarmed by my reaction to them.

My father threw me a look of disapproval. In his eyes, I saw an unmistakable flicker of fear but he covered it quickly and said to me in his usual chirpy voice,

"You shouldn't shed tears over _them_, darling,"

I clawed on to mother's arm tightly. She sighed and tried to loosen my grip.

"Calm down, Aura. It's time you learned about the importance of accepting the way things are," added Mother uncomfortably.

"But mother this is…"

She quickly grew fed up with my crying and pulled away from me.

"Listen to me, " said Father.

I scooted away from them both, but I was shaking while wearing a look of betrayal like the way, my cat, Mr. Pink did when I bathed him on a chilly morning. Father lowered his voice as if he was afraid to be overheard. I thought this was silly considering we were inside our own home but I didn't say anything.

"There are uncultured people who live outside the Capitol. These people betrayed the Capitol in the past and so as punishment they were banished away. They are simple folk; they live simple lives and they don't have any great aspirations. It's understandable, dear, why you may take pity on them but don't ever forget that they're sneaky and greedy people. If one of them got a hold of you, he'd do away with you, claim all of our good things right out from under u. Do you want that?"

Father's words terrified me, but that was entirely the point.

I shook my head and wiped my runny nose on my sleeve. Images flashed up on the tv screen of the surviving players. One girl who was so small that she looked liked a kitten to my young eyes was curled up on the ground. She wasn't moving but her eyes were open as she lay there, in the pouring rain. Her eyes looked sad and defeated.

"But why can't we share all the good things, Daddy?"

My parents seemed troubled by what I had said and they sent me to bed without supper. It became clear that it was not in my best interest to be questioning the Capitol's actions in any way. From that moment on, I understood this unspoken rule about The Hunger Games. I learned never to cry for the district children.

Eventually, I did build up detachment toward the never-ending supply of tributes. I admit that I even laughed and gasped dramatically along with everyone else. The tributes became actors in a tv show. Surely the blood and violence were all staged or stylized somehow.

As the years passed, one persistent reoccurring thought began to nag at me. I began to concentrate on the faces of the ones who had died during the battles more than the victors. I observed the faces of the ones who lay maimed, face down in the dirt, waiting for the hovercraft to retrieve them. The show would continue on without them and they would be forgotten about forever. I secretly agonized repeatedly over a persistent string of questions: what is it that separates a victor from just another casualty? Is it luck or destiny? Are the fallen just minor characters in someone else's heroic story?

After a while I started to see myself in the dirt, lying there, as people trampled over my body in a desperate attempt to reach the Cornucopia first. I'm not sure what made me think this way but I started to get a gut feeling that my own destiny would be nothing more than a short chapter in someone else's heroic story.

This thought made my stomach run cold but somehow I always felt it would be the truth.

I don't have a right to make you feel sympathy for me, but I must say that you have no idea how it feels to be the villain, to be obstructing good from triumphing. Or how it feels to have finally realised you've spent your whole life doing something that has subtracted from the well-being of others. Well...

Tonight I'm going to stare directly at the ugliness within me and acknowledge it. There is nothing I can say to defend myself so watch me as I pay for my ignorance. Retribution has come for us all.

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AN: Thanks to **don'tlikehugs18 **for Beta-ing this story!


	2. Prologue Pt 2: The Silent Memoirs

**Artificial Snowflakes**

* * *

**Prologue**** pt 2: The Silent Memoirs**

An explosion erupts in the distance; my awareness sharpens. I'm back in my family's home for the first time in months. But this place hardly feels the same. The warm spice scent that used fill every room has now been replaced with a stale odor of neglect. Nobody has stepped inside the house for weeks.

I sit alone in the dark, and anxiously await first light. My gaze settles on nothing in particular, but my mind is whirring. Everything has changed. I'm not who I used to be; I feel like an alien in my own home. I have become this new person who carries around the weight of despair.

I'm facing thick gold drapes that obstruct my view of a shattered crystal city. The first snow of the season is due to fall soon but, I'm not tempted to peer past those curtains for any reason because we need to stay hidden from the rebels. Stray bombs continue to rumble far away in the night. I feel on edge because earlier in the night, the Capitol erupted in a flurry of activity. A series of explosions and shots were followed by distant cheers of triumph throughout the course of the night.

I'm plagued with pent up agitation, and so I pace the length of the room several times. Various scenarios are running through my mind about what I can do to keep us alive tomorrow. I accidentally kick a glass vase that lay on the floor, and hits the wall with a thud. There is chaos lying at my feet. The rebels have ransacked my family's home. They meticulously purged every possible item of value, down to the platinum coated cutlery that my Mother reserved for dinner parties. Anything useless lays dismantled or scattered across the floor. My eyes settle on the fragments of my once exquisite jewellery box. It was only just a few months ago when I begged my father for a pair of expensive earrings made from the finest materials available in District One. The earrings were gone, along with everything else.

At the centre of the room is my queen sized bed. An exhausted boy is sprawled out under the sheets. He is not making a sound so I can't tell if he's awake or if he's fallen into an empty slumber. Even so, I don't want to disturb him, knowing that he has barely slept on our journey back to the Capitol.

Thinking about everything we've faced together causes emotion to well up inside of me, but I won't let it translate on my face. I smooth the blanket down over him and try to pull myself together.

As the night wears on, a boisterous entourage of rebels wander near my location. I stiffen so that I won't make a sound. Their hooting and intoxicated voices ring out over the silent promenade. They're searching for Capitol citizens who may have had the bright idea to hide among the abandoned homes. Earlier in the evening I saw a pack rebels launch a humiliating attack on an old Capitol man who seemed rather senile, and was roaming the streets alone. I thought it was completely uncalled for but I could do nothing. There's a lot of pent up hatred in the air tonight; that's the ugly side of war and rebellion .

The group begins to chant phrases of freedom and victory, and my heart sinks.

President Snow must be dead.

I exhale slowly and begin to brace myself mentally. Tomorrow is going to be a big day for _the boy _and I. We will be going into the President's Mansion. If President Snow is indeed dead, if the rebels have succeeded in overthrowing the Capitol, then… our whole strategy will have changed. I'm not entirely sure what _he'll_ do. He hasn't told me many details of his plans and so, I feel uneasy.

But one thing is clear to me. No matter what he says, I will go to the mansion with him. I won't let him face the revels alone. Even though that may mean a terrifying death for us both. And anyway, I feel as if my destiny is pulling me to the mansion. I can't exactly explain it, but something tells me that my story will end tomorrow. I picture those slain tributes like images on a tv screen in my mind.

I am not the heroine of this story. I'm the villain. Well…truthfully I'm not even that. I'm one of the minor characters in a big revolution. Trampled on and forgotten, lying in the mud.

But it's okay, really. Whatever comes tomorrow, let it come.

There is however, one last thing I must do.

* * *

Since I only have until dawn to finish the task, I hurry out of the bedroom. Anxiety rears it's head as I steal a glance at the mound of blankets concealing the boy from view. As I close the door behind me with a soft click, my chest feels constricted. Now in the hallway, I carefully grope around in the dark to avoid colliding with anything. After just a few paces however, broken glass crunches under my feet and I bump into some furniture that act as obstacles in the dark. I go down a spiral staircase leading to the living area. Mother loved mirrors and she had installed a decorative chandelier made up of them. In the dim light, I can see thousands of broken mirror shards covering the floor. I wonder why the rebels felt the need to tear the chandelier down. I can only conclude that they did it to vent their hatred for the Capitol's lifestyle.

After making a beeline to my father's study, I'm not surprised that the door opens without resistance. By pressing my finger onto the wall next to the doorframe, I activate the light settings. An intense florescent light shoots out from the spot underneath my fingertip, and it spreads up to the ceiling like a spider web. Now that the room is lit with veins of golden light, I can see that Father's exquisitely decorated study had been trashed, and his work files had been dumped on the rug. I notice that the rare paintings he'd collected from the Old Times were missing, an expensive vase had been thrown into the fireplace and a plush sofa lay on its belly. I feel relieved to see evidence that the vandals had grown frustrated, and it seems they did not find Father's secret files.

I set my sights on the centerpiece of the room, a dazzling water fountain. My throat feels dry as I watch delectable flavored water cascade down the three-tiered fountain. Fresh water is pumped back to the top ensuring that the liquid is always pure. I search the room for water glasses, which I find, tucked away in a desk draw. Then I quickly type commands into a control panel causing the fountain to glows a florescent lilac color. I fill up my glass with clear grape and cherry flavored water, which I sip very slowly. I knew that the taste would make no impact on me at all, but my throat feels better now, at least.

The rebels were smart enough to be searching here. They must've known of my father's high position in the government and that he was a close confidante of President Snow. They had thoroughly searched the office but what they failed to see was the key to Father's vault of secrets right in front of their eyes.

I put the glass down and pull a small crystal prism attached to a chain out from under my clothing. This was my Father's skeleton key. I place it at the very top of the water fountain. It's a little tricky putting the prism in place as water gushes all around my hand. Then finally I hear a click as it settles into the right groove. All of a sudden, blinding streams of light stem out all around the fountain. The prism key glows a vibrant blue. I watch as beams of light bleed into the floor and form a trail that crawls up the walls and stops on a spot behind Father's desk.

Then patterns of the light form into a perfect rectangular door, big enough for the average human to use. I feel a chill run up my spine as I move over to the door made of up light. I have never actually been inside the secret vault before, and so I feel hesitant to trespass. I push my hand into the light and to my amazement it melts straight through to the other side.

I smile with pride; Father was indeed an amazing inventor. Then without trying to over think it, I walk through the door. The wall feels resistant against my body as I go straight through it. I find myself standing in an immaculately clean room filled with treasures. I'm so taken aback by what lies before me. I'd lived here for so long but I had never expected such a room to exist in my home.

A stylish display cabinet held what must be a large portion of my family's fortune in the form of gems, bars gold, our family's crest and three identical necklaces that were given to my two sisters and myself from President Snow. My attention turns to a hologram blue orb that spins very slowly in mid air. I examine it in amazement.

_What is it?_

The blue surface resembles water and the brownish-orange patches look like land. The orb spins towards me and I see the word "PANEM" written on a mass of land. I realize that this is a model of the world as it is now. I've truly have never seen a real map before. I've never really thought about countries outside of Panem either. At school they did mention that a long time ago, the world was made up of a number of countries, but these countries were supposed to have been annihilated or were now completely underwater. We were told that Panem is the last civilization in the world. However, I notice that there are clearly several land formations spaced around the blue ball. Some are just as big as Panem. I have a hard time believing that all of them are uninhabited.

To my right, I find artifacts and pictures from the Old Times stored in a hyperbaric chamber. These must be the oldest and most valuable artifacts my father had collected. They are in perfect condition since they were stored so well. I turn my attention now to an archive of black files stacked to the ceiling. This must be a collection of Father's most significant inventions. The files are like tablets or flat slates made out of a marble-like material. They appear to be virtually indestructible. I pick up one tablet and as I touch it, a hologram image materializes off of the surface. It documents a series of handwriting and diagrams. I proceed to thumb through the notes of this particular file. There are a number of diagrams that look like a type weapon. I read a paragraph scribbled in father's handwriting underneath one odd looking diagram and it said:

_The following is a report that will outline the structure and specific components of an ancient weapon used to decimate entire populations in the Old Times. This Bio Chemical weapon is known as the Apocalypse weapon within some ancient literature. Since the weapons' damage can span over a few thousand years it possesses potent power. Attempts will be made to replicate the ingredients used in the structure of this ancient weapon._

_Replicate?_ Why would Father want to do that?

I toss the file aside feeling repulsed. There are a number of files labelled as "Weaponry" and I quickly peruse through them. Some report on weapons that can kill on impact, other weapons were used for torture and some files include details for the designs of Muttations. I immediately toss them all into a small case without looking at them. Just the mere thought of father working on these types of things for the government made my skin crawl. I just don't want to have such a negative image of my Father being the enabler of such violence.

I decide that these should never fall into the wrong hands. After all, I have come to know that there is a faction within the rebel forces championed by certain Districts. This rebel faction seeks not for justice or revenge but to simply replace the Capitol's population with their own at the top of the hierarchy. I cannot allow anyone to see these files. It was father's fervent wish to destroy them but… how can marble be destroyed?

I rack my brain before it comes to me. There is a machine located in my Father's lab that can destroy the files. This would mean that before the showdown at the President's mansion, I would have to take a detour to the Capitol's National Science Institute. I exhale with frustration. This will not be an easy task. Also, I have to make sure that I wont get caught snooping around because the rebels have taken control of the Science facility. If I'm found out then I would literally be handing the files straight over to the people I'm trying to conceal them from. However, it's a risk that I will have to take.

I can't wait to exit the vault now. Its luster had worn off so suddenly but before I leave, I pick up a blank marble tablet and a scribe. After I retrieve the crystal prism key, I dry it and place it safely around my neck. All of the brilliant lights evaporate along with the secret door. The place where the door stood now looks like an inconspicuous patch of wall. I quickly push the sofa back into an upright position, and take a seat.

I place the marble tablet onto my lap, and start to write directly on it's surface. Sentences scorch onto the tablet like trails of flames. The words glow intensely for a few seconds before disappearing like dying embers, completely absorbed into the marble. I know that the next person who picks up the tablet will be able to read what I had written. This is perfect.

Quite satisfied, I settle into my spot, and begin to write.

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To Whom It May Concern,

My name is Aura Valance; and I want to share a valuable true story with you. First, let me say that I think history's purpose is to help us understand why we've become who we are, and I believe that history also helps us avoid making the same mistakes from the past. Recently, I've learned life-altering things about the past and present that may affect all of mankind in the future. I just want to share what I know with you now because I can't be guaranteed of my mortality in the very near future.

I live in the tumultuous times of a changing Panem, from a tyrannical empire known as The Capitol. The Capitol was the cream of Panem but I severely doubt that my people will be portrayed in a positive light. I'm sure that the Capitol and its citizens will go down in history as being the selfish enslavers of our era. However, despite this, I want you to understand why I will try to save my people from further retribution. At the very least, I wish to alter future perceptions of my people. You see, hatred should never be apart of a resolution, as I will explain later on.

Writing is now the only way I can leave my message behind. I hope that someone will one day stumble upon my words. I would, however, have preferred to tell someone about my story, but I can't. I don't have a voice anymore…and I never will again. The Capitol has silenced me permanently.

They have turned me into an Avox.

If you are unaware of what an Avox is, then, let me explain briefly. An Avox is a person who has been punished for rebelling against the Capitol; in other words, a traitor or a runaway. Due to circumstances that I found myself in, I came to know the corrupt nature of my people; and to silence me, the Capitol cut out my tongue. It was cut out of my mouth after hours of torture and interrogation. To denigrate me further, I was re-trained to be a faceless and nameless servant of the Capitol.

You may wonder why I'm trying to spare the lives of the people who have condemned me; the people who have violated me, enslaved me and stole my voice.

Well, you see…my story isn't a simple one. In order to make you understand fully, I need to tell you everything from the beginning. Starting from before the rebellion when I was just an ignorant girl from a privileged family.

I'll take you back to the cataclysmic day that encouraged a chain reaction of events. It was the morning of the 74th Hunger Game's opening ceremony.

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End file.
